


Everything That I Knew of Love, I Was a Long, Long Way Off

by BulletBlaze



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Artist Derek, First Kiss, M/M, Sappy Ending, Tattooed Stiles Stilinski, derek draws on stiles, just a bunch of sap really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 13:16:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11510208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BulletBlaze/pseuds/BulletBlaze
Summary: The surprise wore off fairly quickly for Stiles. After all, if a guy who was terrified of needles could discover a love for tattoos, then a guy who saw the world in shades of grey on a good day could just as easily paint it in all of its hopeful vibrancy.It was days like this when all of Stiles’ consideration of Derek’s newfound hobby came to the forefront. It was also days like this when it all went away. Days when Stiles was laid out on the couch in the loft, jacket and shirt in a pile on the floor a few feet away, with Derek hunched over him.





	Everything That I Knew of Love, I Was a Long, Long Way Off

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr for ladydrace's birthday!  
> Just some schmoopy sap that I wrote on my phone cause I was bored.  
> Hope you enjoy!

Derek going back to college had shocked them all, especially when he told them he was going to be an art major.

Stiles supposed that it made sense; Derek wasn’t looking for a career, as he was in no need of money, and going to college should be something he got to enjoy. But the whole ‘Derek loves drawing and painting’ thing had thrown everyone for a loop. Including Stiles.

For a guy that exclusively wore black, he sure loved to color with all the brightest colors of the rainbow.

And he was so good at it, too. The way his hand flowed with a brush, pencil, chalk was mesmerizing. The lines all flowed together into pristine portraits and dreamlike designs and Stiles would never get enough of it.

The surprise wore off fairly quickly for Stiles. After all, if a guy who was terrified of needles could discover a love for tattoos, then a guy who saw the world in shades of grey on a good day could just as easily paint it in all of its hopeful vibrancy.

It was days like this when all of Stiles’ consideration of Derek’s newfound hobby came to the forefront. It was also days like this when it all went away. Days when Stiles was laid out on the couch in the loft, jacket and shirt in a pile on the floor a few feet away, with Derek hunched over him.

At first it had tickled, and Derek had to stop the movement of his marker after only a few lines, lest he got kneed in the face. But Stiles had trained his body to relax, to block out the feeling of the tip of the marker on his skin, to lie still. That day, Derek had created the head of a wolf on his right pectoral, and Stiles didn’t wash it off for a week.

The next time, Stiles let himself feel the markers as they colored in the designs permanently inked onto his arms and shoulders. He felt like one of those adult coloring books, except he was an adult coloring… human. And then he had looked in the mirror, and a smile grew across his lips.

He looked like living art. The different shades of red and purple stood out against his pale skin, outlined by the black lines that kept them contained. Bright blue and variations of green mixed to make his forearm look like the ocean; swirling orange and vibrant yellow setting his shoulder on fire.

Stiles took a picture and stared at it, a reverent smile on his face, in almost every moment he had alone.

The third time, Stiles almost fell asleep.

It had been an exhausting day of training, followed by pizza and a movie with the pack. Stiles didn’t want to go home, and Derek didn’t seem to be in any rush to kick him out. So he had laid down on the couch, shirt already on the floor. An invitation. An offering. A hope.

He was on the verge of falling into a deep darkness, mind drifting pleasantly when he felt the first touch. A line moved in a swirl across his chest and the scent of sharpie filled his nose. Stiles almost told him off for using permanent marker. Derek knew how hard it was for the stuff to come off of his light skin.

But then he felt another touch- a hand rubbing up his stomach. Pressing lightly against his abdomen, and coming to rest just below his left nipple, anchoring them. Keeping them both still as Derek continued his lines.

Stiles’ head was fuzzy, his mind calm and raging all at once, and he never wanted to move.

Derek’s thumb was rubbing circles into his skin, and his breath was cool as it washed over him, pulling out goosebumps and making the hair stand on end. Then the sharpie stopped moving, and Derek was blowing warm air over the tingly area of skin.

Stiles opened his eyes and found Derek already looking at him. When Stiles managed to shift his gaze from the wonderful artistry of Derek’s eyes, he saw that the side of his chest was adorned with a black triskele, sitting right over his heart.

Looking back at Derek, Stiles noticed the hidden nervousness in his expression, and he knew that this was more than just Derek marking Stiles as part of his pack. This was more than the leather jacket hung up in his closet, or the assortment of mugs in his kitchen cabinets that didn’t belong to him.

This was a question. One that Derek didn’t know how to get out with words, so he asked the next best way.

Stiles felt many different emotions well up inside of him- happiness, excitement, nervousness, love. But most of all, he felt an overwhelming urge to tell Derek that this, whatever _this_ meant, Stiles felt it, too. He wanted it, too.

But he must’ve been just as anxious as Derek, because the words wouldn’t come. So he did the next best thing and showed him.

Derek didn’t move away when Stiles brought his hand up and cupped the back of his neck. He didn’t resist when Stiles pulled his head down, closer. He didn’t pull away when Stiles pressed their lips together, kissing him soundly, giving him an answer.

Stiles scrubbed off the sharpie the next night, and he hated the look of sad, tired defeat Derek tried to hide upon seeing the bare skin. But the blinding smile he got the night after when it was back, stark and permanent and a promise, was more than worth it.

Derek kissed his chest, then his lips, and buried his smile in Stiles’ neck, and Stiles was right. He would never get enough of this.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you thought? I'd love to hear ^^  
> I normally don't write things this short, so... But I like how it turned out!  
> Until next time, come say hi on tumblr! I'm bulletblaze there, too :)


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